


Not Just Another Day

by raiining



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Happy Tower Time AU, Kid Fic, M/M, No actual kid present, Our boys deserve nice things, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's nice to have a day set aside just to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Utterly shameless Valentine's Day kid!fic fluff, with no actual kid present. Remember to brush your teeth after reading *g*
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by the utterly fantastic Ralkana, who always makes things better :)

Phil's footsteps stutter when he walks past the empty nursery, and of course Clint notices.

"You know she's perfectly fine, right? She's having the time of her life right now."

Phil resists the urge to check his phone for the fiftieth time. He's not a helicopter parent. He's _not_. “She's two years old, Barton. The time of her life involves fingerpaint, blue carpeting, and the biggest mess she can make in under three minutes.”

Clint grins. “Before you try and blame that on me, remember that I have copies of the Living Room Incident of '68."

Phil makes a face. "Why does my mother love you more than me, again?"

"Because I'm adorable?"

He nods. "That is true."

They grin at each other until Phil shakes his head. "I'm going to shower."

Clint grabs his hips when he moves to walk past. "That's an image I enjoy. Mind if I join you?"

Phil hooks his fingers into the waistband of Clint's jeans. "I was hoping you'd say that."

They kiss on the way to the bathroom. Clint's mouth is hot and perfect under his, and Phil could stand here for eternity, but they actually have reservations tonight. He breaks away and turns on the hot water. Clint helps him out of his clothes while the steam builds, and then shoves him in the direction of the shower with a laugh. "Go. I know how much you love to stand under the spray."

Phil smiles and does as he's told. He relishes the feeling of water on his face, but gladly gives it up when Clint opens the door and steps inside. Clint ducks his head under the water and groans. "God, that feels good."

"Mm," Phil agrees, reeling Clint back in close. He loves the feel of water-slick skin under his hands, warm and smooth and delicious.

Clint grins and dips his head for another kiss. "I miss this."

"Me too," Phil confesses. Darla rarely sleeps long enough for them to shower together anymore. She goes to bed at seven, but by then it's more fun to get dirty instead of clean. 

They trade kisses under the spray. Clint reaches for his shampoo and Phil uses the fancy shower gel Pepper got him last Christmas, the one he can't wear to work because S.H.I.E.L.D. has a no-scent policy. It's easy to move around each other, arms reaching and fingers trailing, keeping close despite the fact that they don't have to. Stark's built them a huge shower with lots of room, but it's more fun this way.

They towel off together and shave side-by-side. Phil finishes first and presses a kiss to Clint's shoulder before he leaves. Clint catches his eye in the mirror and smiles. He'll stay by the sink to fix his hair, something Phil doesn't have to worry about, anymore.

Phil walks the short distance to their bedroom and stands in front of the closet, debating his choice of suit. He doesn't want something he'd wear to work, but he's not going the full three-piece route, either. He chooses a black ensemble with a more stylish cut than something he'd wear to the office, and puts it on. 

He doesn't pick a tie until Clint's done in the bathroom and has chosen a shirt, so he can make sure they match. They each use different, but complementary, cologne. Phil stays in the bedroom to change the sheets while Clint goes into the kitchen to shine his shoes. He loves to take Clint apart on silk covers, and they'd wrecked their regular sheets a few hours ago after dropping Darla off on Natasha's floor.

Afternoon sex is a rare treat these days, and it was an opportunity they weren't about to waste.

The restaurant isn't far, so they decide to walk. Phil links their fingers together as they stroll down the street. It's a little cool, but they don't need gloves. Clint's tells him a story about something Bruce did in the lab last week, and he's listening, he really is, but he's also basking in the moment. The streetlights, the slight breeze, Clint gesturing with the hand Phil's not currently holding as he talks. 

Phil doesn't regret Darla, not for a second, but he does treasure moments like this, when he can have his husband all to himself.

The restaurant is an old favourite of theirs; fancy, but not so much that Clint feels uncomfortable. He can slip into character as well as any other trained agent, but Phil likes it when he forgets which fork to use and puts his elbows on the table when he's talking. He's more real that way. 

The conversation is easy, but Phil can't help but be distracted by the way Clint looks tonight. He memorizes the sparkle in Clint's eyes as he talks, the way his lips glisten slightly when he licks them. He takes this moment and writes it down, tucking it away deep inside his heart, next to the first time he saw his daughter's face and the love that shone in Clint's eyes on their wedding night. 

He needs these moments, these glimpses at what's really important, to keep him balanced during the rest of his day. Clint's not the only one who can slip into a role, and sometimes Phil is too good at being Secret Agent Phil Coulson. He needs to feel human, too. 

The waiter refills their wine glasses. Phil takes his and holds it for a moment in his hand. He meets Clint's gaze and pauses, waiting for the second it takes Clint to realize what he's going to do.

"I love you," Phil tells him. They aren't the type to voice it often, but sometimes it needs to be said.

Clint smiles back, warm and perfect. "I love you, too."

They don't clink glasses, just tip them slightly towards each other, but it's enough. Phil takes a sip, watching the way Clint's throat moves as he drinks. He knows the taste of that skin, remembers the slight tang of salt, the musk that is sweeter than any cologne. Clint catches his eye and grins. “Should I call for the bill?”

Phil wants to, but he doesn't have enough opportunities to spoil his husband with a nice meal. “Not just yet,” he says. “Tell me what happened after you caught Peter crawling through the ventilation shafts.”

Their work has changed over time. Phil knows it's not just because of Darla – Clint is an Avenger now, and Phil is a senior agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. Because of Darla, though, they can't both in the field at the same time. One of them needs to be safe, just in case. They miss out on certain things they didn't used to, but it also means they have more to talk about when they can steal away moments together like this.

Dinner is delicious. They debate dessert, but then Clint catches his eye again and Phil feels his throat go dry. “Just the bill,” he says instead, smiling when their waiter gives them a knowing grin.

Phil pays with his private credit card because this is not a S.H.I.E.L.D. thing, this is just for them. The walk back to the Tower gives them time to digest, and Phil shares a story about what Jasper did the other day, when he was supposed to be training the baby agents.

“Oh god,” Clint laughs, shaking his head. “He really gave them paintball guns?”

“Two teams,” Phil tells him. “Red versus blue.”

“Fury must have been _pissed_.”

“I think Janice from Maintenance was the most upset.”

The elevator is waiting for them on the ground floor, JARVIS having noticed when they walked in. Clint reels Phil in close while the car ascends. They trade lazy kisses that slowly build, breaking off when the elevator opens. 

“We should have couch sex,” Clint says, pulling Phil into the living room. “Just because we can.”

“I put out new sheets,” Phil protests, but it's halfhearted because _couch sex_.

“We can mess those up tomorrow,” Clint promises. He pushes Phil onto the cushions and straddles him with his thighs, grinding his ass down into Phil's groin. “Natasha said not to bother picking Darla up until she's had her afternoon nap.”

Phil groans as he digs his fingers into the meat above Clint's hip. “You mean we get to sleep in?”

“All morning long.”

“I love Natasha.”

Clint grins. “But you love me more, right?”

“I don't know,” Phil says, pushing up with his hips. He's getting hard, and Clint's ass feels so good in his lap. “What are you good for?”

“I could tell you,” Clint says, wriggling, “but showing you is more fun.” He slides off Phil's lap and goes down to his knees, attacking the Phil's zipper with both hands.

Phil bites off a moan, then remembers that he doesn't have to be quiet and groans. “Fuck, _yes_.”

Clint wets his lips, his eyes focused on Phil's hardening cock. “That comes later. For now you'd better hush, or this is going to be over far too soon. I want to take my time with you, tonight.” 

Phil is very much in favour of this plan, so he clamps his mouth shut even as Clint licks a wet stripe along the underside of his cock. He fists his hands into the couch as Clint slowly takes him apart, sucking him down only to pull his mouth off when Phil gets too close, attacking again when he's had a chance to cool down. 

It's torture and so, so good. Brain-meltingly fantastic, and exactly what he wanted tonight. 

“What's your end game here?” Phil asks breathlessly, trying to distract himself from the way Clint is deep-throating him. 

“Hmm,” Clint says, humming around his shaft. He pulls off with a pop. “I was thinking you could fuck me.”

“Yes, good,” Phil says, holding the base of his cock to keep himself from coming. “Excellent plan. Is there lube?”

Clint grins and reaches a hand under the couch, coming up with a new bottle he obviously bought for the occasion. “I stashed it here after I shined my shoes.”

“Good thing I agreed to couch sex, then, or you'd have forgotten about it until Darla found it a month from now.”

“Three days, if we're lucky,” Clint tells him. “Did I tell you she threw her train puzzle across the room yesterday?” 

Phil undoes his belt and slips his pants off, leaving his socks on. “Really? Did you lose any of the pieces?”

Clint shakes his head and strips off his own clothes. “I would have, if not for JARVIS. Tantrums are not fun. How long again until she's three?”

“Months and months,” Phil tells him, flipping them over so Clint is the one on the couch. He reaches for the bottle of lube, and hitches Clint's leg over his shoulder. “Mm. You look good like this.”

“I'm not the only one,” Clint tells him, eyelids going heavy as Phil breaches him with one finger. “God, yes, give me more.”

“Slow,” Phil says, turning his head to kiss him on one knee. “We don't have to rush tonight.”

“God, no. Mm, Phil, so _good_.”

It doesn't take long to stretch him, but Phil takes his time. By the time he finally slides in, Clint's sweating, twitching when Phil bottoms out. “Fuck, _yes_ ,” Clint pants. “Do that again.”

Phil bites his lip and complies, trying to get control of himself so this can last. He pushes into and out of Clint, getting a rhythm going before he tries for the sweet spot. Clint shouts and digs his fingers into Phil's arm, so he does it again. 

“Phil, Phil, Phil,” Clint moans. “God. _Fuck._ Yes. So _good_.”

“Jesus,” Phil gasps. “Shut _up_. I'm going to come.”

“Do it,” Clint groans. “Yes, please. Come in my ass, as deep as you can. Do it.”

“Fuck,” Phil pants, but he's already gone, cock spurting deep inside of Clint. “Oh fuck, _yes_.”

“Mm,” Clint says, wincing only a little when Phil pulls out. His cock is still hard, but he seems okay with that for now. “So good to me.”

Phil huffs a laugh and rolls off the couch, going to his knees. “It's a punishment.”

Clint arches his back off the couch as Phil sucks him down. “I know. I'm so – oh _fuck_ – so demanding.”

“The worst,” Phil agrees, pulling off before going down again. He uses every trick he's learned over the years to make it good, and it doesn't take long for Clint to come. He tenses and Phil swallows, Clint gasping as he does.

He puts his head down afterwards, resting it on Clint's thigh, Clint's hand buried in his hair. “Bed,” Phil says, eventually.

“Mm,” Clint agrees. “Yup. Getting up now.” He doesn't move.

Phil groans, but struggles to his feet. He pokes Clint in the side. “Come on, or I'm falling asleep without you.”

“Meanie,” Clint says, but he follows Phil off the couch. They stumble through the apartment together, taking turns in the bathroom to piss and guzzle water.

“Oof,” Clint huffs, face-planting on the bed. He shuffles to the side when Phil tickles him. “Hey, no fair.”

“We're secret agents, Barton. Fair isn't in the handbook.”

Clint cracks one eyelid open. “There's a handbook?”

Phil laughs and crawls into bed. “Just for that, you're making me pancakes in the morning.”

Clint smiles and turns on his side so he can be the little spoon. “You know if she smells pancakes when she gets home, she's going to want some.”

“So we can have pancakes again for dinner. I'm okay with that. You make good pancakes.”

“I see how it is,” Clint yawns, snuggling closer. “You just keep me around for my cooking.”

Phil presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Yes,” he says fondly. “That's it exactly.”

“Knew it,” Clint mumbles, already practically asleep. 

Phil smiles into his skin. _I love you,_ he thinks.

“You, too,” Clint murmurs without looking, then reaches back to tangle their fingers together. “Now go to sleep.”

Phil smiles and does as he's told.

 

 

The End


End file.
